


This Isn't Love

by munzie (enjolrasenthusiast)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, sorry flint, wow i procrastinated way too much while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasenthusiast/pseuds/munzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought I told you to get over it,” Iwaizumi grunted when Oikawa laid down on him, head on Iwaizumi’s thigh and hair splaying out messily over the fabric of his pants. “You don’t love me.”</p>
<p>“Love? This isn’t love,” Oikawa chuckled innocently. “If you say so, anyway.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yukine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukine/gifts).



> WOW HEY look at me writing pairings i dont usually write go me congratulations
> 
> anyway anyway this is a gift for the wonderful [flintlock](http://nishunoya.tumblr.com), who (let me be gross here sorry) i look up to a lot as both a writer and a person so so much like wow. wow
> 
> here u go flint i hope u like this i cried twice while writing it and it isnt even sad
> 
> this was definitely gonna have porn in it but its like almost midnight and i dont wanna write another thousand words

Iwaizumi, for all he hung around (mothered) Tooru, for all he was forced to endure his best friend’s enthusiastic fans, for all he had put up with, firmly believed that romance was for fools. The biggest fool of them all, of course, being his very own, very fickle, Oikawa Tooru. Well, not _his_ , per se, but definitely more his than anyone else’s.

Iwaizumi had always found romance to be more than a little tiring, honestly. He didn’t know how Oikawa did it, how he managed to give his heart out so freely and so often. Once or even twice a month he would drape himself over Iwaizumi’s back, sighing dreamily and recounting conversations he had had with his interest of the week, or day. Usually it would be one of his fans, sometimes just someone he had met on his way home or out at the store. These interests of his never lasted longer than a week or two before he moved onto the next crush, and by now Iwaizumi had learned to (mostly) tune out his best friend when he was in the moment.

Honestly, Iwaizumi found Oikawa and his crushes to be completely and utterly ridiculous.

That was why, when Oikawa pulled him into a bus stop on the way home, face flaming and one hand ruffling through his bag to pull out a folded up piece of paper, when he cornered Iwaizumi and stuttered out a confession, Iwaizumi’s first instinct was to laugh. Oikawa halted, words cutting off in his throat, and he gripped Iwaizumi’s wrist just a little bit tighter.

“Iwa-chan, don’t be so mean!” His tone was light, joking, but his grip on Iwaizumi said otherwise.

“I can’t help it, you’re being ridiculous!”

“I am not-”

“I mean, I know you’ve got no qualms about who you go after, but-”

“Iwa-chan-”

“You actually, of all people-”

“ _Hajime_.”

Iwaizumi stopped laughing, blinking once, twice. Oikawa rarely, if ever, used his first name, and definitely not with that urgent tone of voice. The grip on his wrist loosened, then vanished as Oikawa dropped his hands to rest at his sides. His fingers toyed with the paper he had taken from his bag, his index finger running along the creases and dipping inside the folds with an almost metronomic rhythm. It was another one of those nervous ticks that Iwaizumi had picked up on over the years.

“I’m not joking, Hajime.”

There it was again, his name. Iwaizumi breathed out long and slow, letting the air filter through his barely parted lips.

“Why, then?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa admitted, bringing his hands together so he could rub his palm over the top of his wrist. “I don’t know.” He stepped forward unevenly, dropping his head down to rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi could feel his shallow, ragged breaths, he could see the barely noticeable tremble in his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

Iwaizumi thought, while they were standing there, of all the times Oikawa had claimed to love people. He thought of how quickly the infatuation came on, how it left just as quickly. This was just one of those times, Iwaizumi told himself. Oikawa wasn’t really in love with him, and he certainly wasn’t in love with Oikawa.

“You’ll get over it,” he said, gently pushing his friend off of him. Oikawa tilted his head, staring at Iwaizumi as if waiting for him to explain himself. Iwaizumi sighed. “This,” he gestured to the two of them, “isn’t going to happen. I’m not going to risk our friendship, you’ll get over it soon.”

“But I _won’t_ ,” Oikawa pleaded. “I won’t, and I’ll prove it if you don’t believe me.”

“You’re being stupid-”

“I’m not. I’ll prove it, Iwa-chan. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Forget about it, idiot. I already told you, this can’t happen.”

“You said ‘isn’t going to,’ you never said ‘can’t.’”

“I just did, dumbass. This can’t happen. Get over me, let’s go home.”

He began walking, stepping around Oikawa and back onto the sidewalk. Oikawa trailed a couple paces behind, feet never quite fast enough to catch up to Iwaizumi. His spirits seemed to lift gradually as they walked, much to Iwaizumi’s relief. The only thing more irritating than Oikawa was an upset Oikawa.

Before they parted ways, Oikawa reached over to stuff the slip of paper into Iwaizumi’s pocket, waving goodbye with a cheerful, “I’ll prove it, wait and see!”

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t really proven his love so much as just become more annoying, Iwaizumi thought. The paper Oikawa had given him still sat untouched on his desk, and frankly, he had no intention of reading it. He could get the gist of what was in the note just by being around Oikawa, after all.

“I thought I told you to get over it,” Iwaizumi grunted when Oikawa laid down on him, head on Iwaizumi’s thigh and hair splaying out messily over the fabric of his pants. “You don’t love me.”

“Love? This isn’t love,” Oikawa chuckled innocently. “If you say so, anyway.”

“You’re still being ridiculous.”

Oikawa hummed in assent, turning his gaze from Iwaizumi to the sky. “What should I do then, bring you chocolates?”

“Do _not_ -”

“Oh, oh! I could get you flowers, what about that? Iwa-chan? I could pick them myself!”

“No. Like I said, ridiculous.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out. “I don’t see you actually trying to stop me, Iwa-chan.”

“Ridiculous _and_ childish.”

It had been one day.

 

* * *

 

Four days in, Iwaizumi found himself on Oikawa’s doorstep. He looked at his phone, read the message Oikawa had sent him. His thumb twitched anxiously.

  


**< From: Trashkawa>**

Iwa-chan, come over!!!Its important~

  


He knocked again, figuring Oikawa’s mother wasn’t home. She usually answered on the first knock, but this was easily the fifth. Maybe the sixth. Inside, he heard shuffling, and he sighed in defeat. Whatever Oikawa had planned for him would be impossible to get out of now. In his peripheral vision, Iwaizumi could see the rich pinks and oranges of the sunset, and he hoped this wouldn’t take so long that he missed the last bus back to his house. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but the chill of autumn had already set in and he didn’t particularly look forward to a cold trek home without a jacket.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa stood in the doorway, looking more disheveled than Iwaizumi had seen him in weeks. His clothes looked like they had just been thrown on, and he had the door open just enough that Iwaizumi could see him and nothing else. “I didn’t think you’d be here so soon!”

“Buses are still running, idiot. It didn’t take that long to get here.”

“Oh, well that’s-” Something beeped inside the house, and Oikawa turned to see what had happened. “Shit, let me just-” He turned and hurried to the kitchen, disappearing behind the wall, out of Iwaizumi’s line of sight.

“Hey dumbass, don’t just leave me here!”

“Shit, sorry, come on in,” Oikawa called from the kitchen.

There was a moment of silence as Iwaizumi stepped inside and took off his shoes, closing the door behind him. The house smelled like food, and Iwaizumi couldn’t see what was happening in the kitchen but god help him, if Oikawa was-

“FUCK!” There was the sound of something slamming shut, followed by the sound of running water.

“Oikawa?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s okay, I just burned myself.”

“ _Just_ burned yourself? On what?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“Like hell I’m not gonna worry about it, idiot!” Iwaizumi stepped into the kitchen, stopping dead at the scene in front of him.

Oikawa was in front of the sink, running cold water over what looked like a large burn on his forearm. Beside him sat a casserole, probably just taken from the oven. Past the kitchen was the dining room, where two places were set nicely, with a single candle set burning in between. Iwaizumi took in Oikawa’s attire, his hastily buttoned dress shirt and styled hair that had come ever so slightly undone in the commotion. Something clicked.

“You...you made me dinner.”

“You just realized that?” Oikawa chuckled, eyes flickering over to where Iwaizumi stood. “For such a smart guy, you really don’t get this whole ‘romancing you’ thing, do you?”

“I, uh…” Iwaizumi shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not really sure what to do. Oikawa seemed to realize this, because he gestured towards the table with his good hand.

“You can sit down if you want. I’ll be there in a second,” he called, grinning widely.

Thankfully, he didn’t take all that long to join Iwaizumi, balancing the casserole in one hand and a pitcher of ice water in the other. Iwaizumi had to give him some credit, he had put a lot of effort into this dinner.

“So,” Iwaizumi said once they were both seated and eating, “why are you still on this, anyway? I told you already, it’s pointless.”

“Don't you remember, Iwa-chan? I’m going to prove I love you!”

“Yeah, but how much longer? It’s already been half a week, hasn’t it?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m keeping track of time, your dumb crushes never last more than a couple weeks.”

“You wound me, Iwa-chan! This isn’t just some dumb crush!”

“If you say so.”

“If you’re so sure it’ll end, then at least go along with it,” Oikawa whined. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “Please? It’ll make things easier. You can keep counting or whatever you’re doing, just give me three weeks.”

Iwaizumi sighed. This was stupid, and also so very _Oikawa_ that he couldn’t help but find it endearing. Or annoying. When it came to the other, the two usually went hand-in-hand.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Three days later, at the end of the first week,  Oikawa linked his fingers with Iwaizumi’s as they were walking home.

Iwaizumi’s first instinct was to jerk away, to pull his hand back as if Oikawa had burned him (that was silly, Oikawa was the one that was burned, during practice  Iwaizumi could see the angry red line marring the pale skin of his arm), but Oikawa hooked their hands together before he got the chance.

“Are you nervous, Iwa-chan? It’s okay, no one’s around, you don’t have to worry.”

“I know that, idiot, its just weird.”

As weird as he claimed it was, Iwaizumi was more than a little irritated that he didn’t actually find it that weird at all. Oikawa’s hands were ridiculously soft, so much that Iwaizumi suspected he probably bathed in lotion - was the rest of him this soft? _No, no. Bad train of thought. Don’t go there._

Oikawa idly brushed the pad of his thumb over the back of Iwaizumi’s hand, and it took most of Iwaizumi’s willpower not to forget that this was just _playing along_ so that Oikawa could get over this silly crush.

 

* * *

 

Another five  days, and Kindaichi awkwardly cornered Iwaizumi in the locker room.

“Are you and Oikawa-senpai…”

Iwaizumi tried his best not to start laughing, before blanching at the realization that people thought he and Oikawa were together.

“Iwaizumi-senpai?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, about that. We aren’t together, no.”

“Are you sure? The two of you seem pretty...close these days. Not to seem rude, sorry.”

“I’m just helping him figure something out. That’s it.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“What? That dumbass?”

Kindaichi blinked, then shrugged and moved out of Iwaizumi’s way.

“Sorry for assuming, senpai.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Iwaizumi tossed over his shoulder as he walked out. On the other side of the door he found Oikawa waiting for him.  He was leaning against the wall, bag slung over one shoulder  and ankles crossed in front of him. Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.  “I thought you went home already, why are you still here?”

“Wanted to walk with you,” Oikawa mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically flat.

“You’re pouting. Why are you pouting?”

“‘M not pouting.”

“Yes you are, now tell me why.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You heard what I said in there, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warned.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“I can see right through you, you know.”

Oikawa sighed. “Okay yes, I heard what you said. Is that so bad?”

“I call you a dumbass all the time, what’s the matter?”

“I said it’s fine, don’t worry about-”

“Then stop pouting already!”

Oikawa fell silent, turning his gaze away from Iwaizumi to stare at the street ahead of them.

_Fuck. I hurt his feelings._

Unsure what to do, Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his pockets. He hated accidentally hurting Oikawa, it didn’t happen very often but he just felt all the worse for it. The silence wasn’t comfortable as it usually was, it was tense and heavy in the air between them. Oikawa seemed to shrink into his jacket, hunching his shoulders just the smallest bit.  Iwaizumi sighed.

Oikawa was so lost in his thoughts that he started when Iwaizumi threaded their fingers together.

 

* * *

 

“I have four days left,” Oikawa said, tossing the volleyball down to Iwaizumi from his position on the bed. Iwaizumi sat cross-legged on the floor, phone and untouched homework in front of him. He passed the ball back.

“Before what?”

“Before my time’s up,” he said matter-of-factly. “Four days to make you love me.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi stared up at the ceiling, at the little glow-in-the-dark stars he and Oikawa had put up as children. So very like Oikawa to leave them up there. This was a side of him that only Iwaizumi knew. Not Kindaichi, not Kageyama, not Oikawa’s dozens of fans. He cleared his throat, not really willing to admit he had forgotten about their agreement.

They lapsed into silence, the only sounds in the room being the soft smack of leather hitting skin as they tossed the ball back and forth. Oikawa seemed lost in thought, only instinct and ingrained skill keeping him from messing up. Iwaizumi studied his face. It was smooth, not a single blemish to be seen, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Oikawa was the first to break the silence.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Mm?”

“What happens if you don’t love me when this is over?”

Iwaizumi didn’t really know how to answer. Honestly, he hadn’t considered it. He figured Oikawa would have tired of him a long time ago, and now that he was still here Iwaizumi was just about out of ideas. He stared up again, at the stars on the ceiling. Oikawa had fallen off of the ladder putting those up, he had fallen on Iwaizumi and his mother had brought them both popsicles so Oikawa would feel better. Iwaizumi remembered a night when they were both ten, when they had stayed awake until one in the morning when the world was dark and the little stars were their only source of light, and Oikawa had told Iwaizumi all about the aliens up in the sky. Iwaizumi wondered if he really didn’t love Oikawa, or if he had just loved him this whole time and never realized it.

“I guess I just give you more time, then.”

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had done this.

The cold tiles of the roof bit at his legs, the chill seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants. Oikawa sat next to him, staring up at the sky and listing off constellations as he saw them. When was the last time they had sat together like this? Months, maybe? A year?

Now, though, Iwaizumi caught himself studying the curves of Oikawa’s face more than the stars above his head. He wondered if this was what romance was supposed to feel like. He didn’t particularly know, he didn’t have anything to compare it to. He didn’t particularly feel like writing poetry or bursting into song. That was what people did when they were in love, right?

He sighed. Oikawa turned to look at him.

“So, have I done it yet?”

“Done what?”

“Made you fall in love with me. Today’s my last day, remember?”

Iwaizumi hummed, scrunching up his nose in mock contemplation.

“Tell you what. Wait until midnight, then I’ll tell you if you did or not.”

Oikawa huffed but returned to pointing out constellations, leaning into Iwaizumi for balance as he raised his finger to trace the shapes in the stars. Iwaizumi followed his finger as best he could, mostly preoccupied with how warm the other was against his chest. It couldn’t be fair, how Oikawa could do this to him without even realizing, could make his pulse skyrocket just by sitting against him.

By all accounts, he should have been used to it. He grew up with Oikawa, lived his entire life with him, there was no reason why he should have this effect now and never before. Iwaizumi thought it was kind of bullshit, when he thought about it. Love was inconvenient. It was also irrational, a little annoying, and very, very ridiculous.

Just like Oikawa.

“When’s midnight again? What time is it?”

Iwaizumi pulled his phone out of his pocket to check. 11:58. He handed it to Oikawa.

“Oooh, it’s close! I could count down the seconds if I wanted to.”

“Dont.”

“Too late, Iwa-chan! One, two, three…” He trailed off, letting his voice sink to a whisper but never stopping. “Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty-”

Iwaizumi surged forwards, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Oikawa made a quiet noise of surprise, relaxing into the kiss as soon as he realized what was going on. He leaned forward, into Iwaizumi, tilting his face to make it more comfortable for both of them. His lips were soft, just as soft as the rest of him, and Iwaizumi figured that he didn’t need to go to Heaven when he had someone better than any angel right in front of him.

And then Oikawa was parting his lips, snaking his tongue out to run along Iwaizumi’s bottom lip, and that was it for him. Iwaizumi lifted his hands and pulled Oikawa’s face closer to his (if that was even possible), tangling his fingers in soft brown curls and scrunching his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He was gone, fairly sure he was dead because _this_ , the feel of Oikawa’s lips on his, was hellfire.

Why did he never do this before?

They broke apart too soon for Iwaizumi’s liking, Oikawa pulling back for a breath and collapsing with his forehead pressed against Iwaizumi’s heaving chest. The air was cold, the autumn wind nipping and their skin, but Iwaizumi had never felt warmer.

“So,” Oikawa mumbled, lifting his head to look at Iwaizumi, “Did it work? Did I get you to love me?”

Iwaizumi thought of the note, the confession that still sat untouched on his desk. Oikawa never got him to do anything, Iwaizumi thought. He had never fallen in love, he had been in love from the start. He pressed one quick, chaste kiss to Oikawa’s lips.

“Does it matter?”

  


**Author's Note:**

> i was so close to putting in an otta reference okay. so close. i could have fit belgian waffles in here somewhere. i showed restraint


End file.
